


Awakening the North

by jencwrites



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Romance, Smut, Vaginal Sex, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencwrites/pseuds/jencwrites
Summary: The Battle of the Bastards is over. Sansa is left at Winterfell as protector of the North when Jon Snow leaves.  Sansa embraces her power and comes to terms with her growing sexuality.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This Alternate Ending storyline fits into season 7. We all know the ending of S8 left MUCH to be desired, so I'm going to resolve things my own way.
> 
> Comments/reviews appreciated!

It was a glorious day. The Battle of the Bastards was over. My half-brother Jon lead his army of free folk and bannermen from the remaining small, loyal houses into battle against the Boltons for Winterfell. He nearly lost, but with the help of the Knights of the Vale lead by Lord Petyr Baelish, Jon succeeded in taking back our home. The Bolton forces were defeated and Ramsay was captured. Now, Ramsay was dead. I was filled with such loathing for the man who was my husband, but I only found a speck of satisfaction watching his dogs devour him. He deserved far worse for what he did to Theon and Rickon, and for what he did to me. 

Outside, the menfolk were collecting the dead and making preparations to destroy the bodies. Inside, there was a mixture of relief, stout determination, and the fear of what was to come next. I found myself pacing the halls. The cold, crisp air of Winterfell was too inviting. Enough of being stuck inside, enough of being the proper lady, surrounded by the bustle. I needed to clear my head and sort out all that had come to pass. I soon found myself beneath the heart tree in the godswood. The snow was falling gently. It was peaceful as I lowered myself into the snow next to the solid trunk. 

I breathe in the cold air and let my eyes flutter closed as I still myself. 

My reverie was broken by Petyr. I heard his steps crunching in the snow as he approached. I still hated him for arranging my marriage to Ramsey in the first place. A little part of me found solace in the fact that he delivered the Knights of the Vale to battle just in the nick of time. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be right back in the seventh level of hell with Ramsay. 

I watched him approach me with some hesitation. The last time we spoke in private was unpleasant for him. He now knows what I endured with Ramsay. 

“Sansa,” Petyr called my name. He always said my name in a way that sounded like he was breathing me in. 

He spoke to me. I only half-heartedly listened to him. He wants the Iron Throne for himself, with me as his Queen. He’s proposing marriage, but I don’t think he’s being serious. 

“You paint a pretty picture,” is all I can manage to say as I push away from him. He is trying to steal a kiss as I placed my gloved hand on his chest. A little chill runs down my spine from the touch. It certainly isn’t from the cold. My emotions are far too worn today to really make sense of what he is offering. 

Me, his Queen? I’m just not sure he knows what he’s in for. I’m not the same girl he left with Ramsay. Of course, he had been my savior getting me out of Kings Landing and that farce of a marriage to Tyrion Lannister. Then it was also he that dropped me into Ramsey’s hands a year ago. He provided a level of safety in uncertain times. Still, he couldn’t possibly want me as his wife. The sting of his betrayal was too fresh and I vowed to myself to never let another sour marriage come to pass. 

***** 

All the lords are in the gathering hall tonight. Jon is at the center of our table with me by his side. He calls me the rightful heir of Winterfell. So many of our guests seem to cling to their doubts. They believe that we may not succeed in keeping our claim. I’m not so sure they are willing to follow us after all. 

Petyr is off to the side of the hall. He’s taking in every word, somehow keeping his eyes locked on me the whole night. His gaze makes me feel warm, and somehow powerful. 

Lyanna Mormont has deftly called out the doubtful lords. Her words sparked something in those men to goad them into continuing to support House Stark. I like her. If Arya were here, she’d like her too. For a moment, I mourn the loss of Arya, then I’m reminded of my place and surroundings. I decide to save that sadness for later. All my troubles would have to wait. 

A few lords have retracted their doubt and pledged themselves to Jon. Interesting. He’s not a Stark by name, but they would rather bow to him than anyone else. He has always been good at knowing what was right and decent. I feel a ripple of pride for him. 

The lords all start chanting King of the North for Jon. I made a suggestion to him in front of the lords about staying in the north, honoring our fighters with lands from Ramsay’s defeated followers. He disagreed with my advice. That stung. But I’m used to being the odd one out. Joffrey’s comments were far worse. 

Dinner and ale and good cheer followed that night, for most everyone. I wasn’t particularly fond of ale, but it was something and I was thirsty. Thank the gods that Jon had already tasked the housekeepers to prepare a room for me. I was ready to lock myself in and wash away the stress of the day. After excusing myself from the table, I may have faltered a bit. Petyr was quickly at my side holding me steady. How did he do that? 

He was kind. Maybe I’m the only one that saw it. Maybe I'm the only one he wanted seeing him that way. His eyes could be flat and show no expression, no remorse, no joy when he regarded anyone else. Except when he looked at me, I could see more. Right now, I could see something burning. Somewhere inside me, I felt a flutter. 

Damn. Damn it. It has to be the ale. 

My recently deceased husband, Ramsey, had raped and tortured me here in my family home. I shut off all feelings after him. Silly, young romantic Sansa was long gone. The bruises and scars from Ramsey were fading, but his voice still rang in my ears. The memory of how he ripped away my clothes and took what he wanted was not so easy to forget. 

Somehow Petyr’s gaze made me flush. Little chills ran up my arm and down my spine as he guided me through the corridors to my chamber, the same chamber that had once belonged to my parents. He was so patient, such a gentleman. Maybe I was mixed up and imagining things. His proposal under the godswood tree flashed in my mind. 

After all, marriage was never about happiness. Houses betrothed children in an effort to make strong alliances. Petyr’s offer of marriage was most likely some ploy to arrange a better place in this world for himself. Petyr was good at planning for long-term results. 

“Sansa, would you like me to call your maid to prepare a bath?” he asks. 

We’re standing in the doorway to my chamber, eye to eye, almost nose to nose. He smells of mint and warmth. It reminds me of the time he kissed me at the Vale, when Aunt Lysa saw him lean in and take hold of my face. 

“Yes, Lord Baelish. That is just what I had planned for this evening,” I said. 

“As you wish, my lady.” He bowed a bit and stepped away. 

He didn’t make any advances. I was able to enter my chamber without him. Funny, I almost expected him to reach for me. 

I moved toward the window to take in the view. Not that long ago, I thought that I’d never be free and safe in my home again. 

Moments later, my maid arrived with a brisk knock at the door. She prepared my bath and I shooed her out so that I might enjoy the solitude. This evening I was happy to be all alone. 

The tub was familiar, a good sized copper vessel. It was close to the fireplace. The maid placed a small stool beside it to hold my bathing necessities. I disrobed and slowly sank into the waiting water. I began to soap up and let my mind wander. 

Bath time was when I normally let myself cry. No one would be the wiser, seeing tears falling, I could always tell the maid that it was bath water on my face. Tonight was different, though. Of all the things I expected to mull over, Petyr kept coming to mind. I missed my family dearly and being back home in Winterfell made that loss feel even heavier than it had in years. However, tonight, I didn’t feel like crying. 

No, tonight I feel brave. Tonight, I feel determined. 

Tomorrow will be a new day for Sansa Stark. Yes, tomorrow will be something entirely different. 

I finished my bath quickly and prepared for bed, my thoughts organizing themselves into a plan. I was the rightful heir to Winterfell, after all. I had decisions to make to keep myself and my home intact.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is planning how to keep the North and where does Petyr fit into this plan?

In the morning, Jon had everyone back in the gathering hall. Many of the lords were again uncertain of the future that Jon wanted. He informed the group of two ravens he’d received. One from Samwell Tarley telling him to go to Dragonstone. There was a mine of dragonglass there. We would need as much dragonglass as possible to defend ourselves against the White Walkers. The other message was from Danerys Targaryen. She was now residing in Dragonstone with her fleet and wanted the King of the North to pledge loyalty to her. 

It sounded like a trap to me. And I said so. 

The lords protested. Jon wanted to arm everyone, man, woman, and child and train them all to fight. The lords continued to protest. Lyanna Mormont again put those pests in their place. I could feel their shock at this seething, strong, young girl spitting back at them that nobody was going to tell her to sit quietly and knit while a war was approaching. Yes, I liked her more and more. I think she will make a fine ally. 

Jon is a man of action. He wants to make the trip to Dragonstone. His declaration is again met with resistance. 

Jon proudly names me as the protector and Queen of the North. I couldn’t help a small smile. Maybe my plan would work after all. Petyr’s gaze catches my eye and I see him nod and smile that half-smile I know so well. Yes, my plan should come together quite well. 

***** 

Later that day, a group of children were in the yard learning to use a bow and arrow. Brienne and Podrick were sparring as well. I was on the walkway above watching their progress. Petyr was by my side. He was making small talk at first. 

Soon, his questions turned personal. He turned away from the children to lean his back against the handrail and face me. 

“Don’t you believe in happiness? That you deserve to be happy?” The expression on his face was earnest. 

“What do you want, Sansa? What would make you happy?” His eyes were dark as he asked me. 

I could see that he was holding himself in check. He wanted to touch me. He wanted to sidle up closer. He was fidgeting. He only fidgeted to keep from touching me. 

“Some peace and quiet would make me happy,” I reply flatly. 

Oh, his words were starting to make sense. How was he so good at making sense? I couldn’t just agree with him. If I’m going to be a formidable and fair Queen of the North, I will need to have my wits about me at all times. I will need a trusted council. I will need my own hand of the queen. Where does Petyr fit in? There has to be a place for him. 

Suddenly, the oddest impulse assaulted me. For a split second, I imagined the two of us, together and entwined. Was his place really in my bed? That thought was so implausible a fortnight ago, but today I see him with fresh eyes. His dark hair, gray at the temples was barely ruffled by the breeze. His eyes were watching me for a reaction. I had to blink a few times to steady my mind. 

Oh, Petyr. I simply can’t let you know that I have a plan for you. As much as I hated the Lannisters, I did learn a few things from Cersei. She was an expert at manipulation, all from behind the throne. I would take a few lessons from her book and see what would work in my favor. 

Thank goodness Brienne approached us both. I will have to thank her later for her impeccable timing. She interrupted us at the ideal moment. 

Now, to keep Petyr reeling. Desire for the one he can’t have should be enough to fuel him a bit longer. 

“No need to seize the last word. I’ll assume it was something clever.” I state nonchalantly and walk away. 

I smile to myself. Yes, that should definitely keep his fires burning. 

I felt a small flutter of triumph deep inside. At least, I think it was triumph. The sensation struck me in a very deep, primal way. 

**** 

The number guests at Winterfell was slowly decreasing. Jon departed for Dragonstone with Ser Davos. A few others had returned home to prepare for attack, siege, or whatever may come their way. I was getting accustomed to the idea of being in charge. 

Jon had left with a bit of an attitude and a warning. He warned me to be careful of whom I trusted. I knew who he meant immediately when he couldn’t help but glare pointedly at Lord Baelish. I nodded and agreed, acting all the while that I hadn’t seen where his eyes were focused. 

Thanks to the gods for this opportunity. Home. Safe in my actual home. After years of waiting on Joffrey in King’s Landing, then of avoiding the imp Tyrion, all the nastiness of Ramsey, and here I was. 

I felt a sense of freedom. Some awful weight had been lifted from my shoulders. 

I took my time dressing that morning. The maid helped with some of the fussy lacings on my gown. She also wove my hair into a new twisted and braided creation. The girl could work wonders. 

I decided to spend most the day walking the grounds and getting to know the people that were serving the household. I figured that I had seen enough of the lords and needed to meet everyone who would be protected by the Queen of the North. After seeing how the Lannister’s ruled, I knew that I needed to have a connection with everyone. I needed to be seen in a positive light. 

I managed to have many small conversations with ladies in the kitchen, able to move effortlessly from plans for tonight’s meals, to their families, and a few funny stories. I chatted up the stable keeper, then another young man who was a blacksmith. 

It didn’t take long to run into just the man I was trying to keep my mind away from. Petyr was also good at forging connections with people from all walks of life. He spotted me across the courtyard and bowed his head slightly to me in acknowledgement. He finished up talking with the two men and made his way to me. 

“Good day, Your Grace,” he said with a smirk. “It’s a pleasant surprise to find you amongst your people.” 

He walked beside me, keeping his stride even with my own. His elbow grazed mine, creating a jolt for a fleeting moment. 

“Thank you, Lord Baelish. I’d like to know my people before making any rash decisions that may affect their future,” I reply, then add, “Or mine.” 

I scan for my next target to get to know, mentally listing who performs which task in the house that I’ll need to approach. 

Petyr nods knowingly. “I believe we are both achieving that task today.” He glances at me sidelong and we stop walking. He turns ever so slightly and leans toward my ear. He slowly inhales and closes his eyes. When he opens them again he slowly whispers “Everyone has something to say if you only listen.” 

My mouth went dry. I was dumbstruck. Gods, if the sideways glance didn’t spark something in me. The whisper caught me even more off guard. I could only watch his lips as he smiled. I had to drag my eyes up his face to his eyes. I saw that light in his eyes again. When he smiled a real smile, his eyes crinkled a certain way. Like right now. It made him look more dashing than normal. 

Damn it all. I couldn’t blame this impulse on drinking too much ale. 

In a poor attempt to regain my composure and control. I nodded curtly and managed to keep from mumbling “I just remembered something I must attend to before dinner.” I excused myself and darted off. I could see the curiosity playing with his smile as one eyebrow arched in question as I escaped. 

That encounter was unusual. My pulse was racing. I retreated to my chamber to recover. My outing was brought to an abrupt end because I couldn’t keep myself focused. My head and my heart were obviously at odds with each other. I wasn’t supposed to fall for Lord Baelish. That was not part of the plan! I was merely supposed to find myself in a civil enough marriage to unite the Northerners and live peacefully ever after. 

Suddenly I was very hot and nervous. Good gods, what if there was more for me than just a civil marriage? What if it was actually pleasant, or dare I think it, amazing? I knew that getting my hopes up was a silly, girlish thing, but I allowed myself a few moments to daydream. I pictured myself smiling and happy, arms around man that just happened to morph into Petyr as his imaginary lips met mine. Sun shining down on us and I melted a bit at the thought of what else might be pleasant with him. A definite flutter in my stomach confirmed my feelings. 

Closing my eyes again and letting my mind relax, that peculiar flutter continued. It was low, so low. I reached down to my stomach and slid my hand lower between my legs to try to soothe the sensation. My touch only made it more intense. A decent lady should never do that so I quickly moved my hand away. 

My breath hitched. A noise from outside the door startled me. My eyes popped open and looked around. I was still alone. 

I immediately put my hand back, though. The pressure felt good. Thinking of Petyr, my mind filled with images of him, his smile, his eyes, the way he leaned in to whisper to me. I was on fire. 

I imagined his touch, starting with him caressing my face and leaning in to kiss me. I tingled all over at the mere thought. Next I imagined him sweeping me up and delighting in touching me, moving my heavy garments away as he touched my shoulders and down my cleavage. Then under my skirts, on my legs, up high on my thighs. Then I pictured his hand moving towards my center. 

I kept wishing that my hands were his. I teased myself, rubbing harder between my legs. I laid back onto my bed and pulled my skirts up so I could really touch myself just right. My legs were spread open and I teased my folds with two fingers, up and down a few times before slipping through the wetness in the center. 

I had only done this a few times before. Proper ladies were supposed to save themselves for their husbands. Since Ramsay, I hadn’t touched myself at all. This was the first time in over a year that had given myself any sort of pleasure. It felt shameful and at the same time very arousing. I scratched and pulled at my own nether hairs to open up more. I slid my fingers down my center, stroking my clit and dipping a finger inside. 

My fingers were so slippery, so good. I teased myself more and more until a pleasurable tightness took over. I rubbed harder, sweeping over my opening and up to focus on my clit. In moments, the tightness took over and pulsed through my core as I panted. 

My breathing slowly returned to normal and I felt my head clear. Something told me that the real thing with Petyr would be better. The way I rubbed myself was nice, but something was missing. Something that only Petyr could deliver.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's opinion has just drastically changed and she sees Petyr in a new light.

The rest of day was uneventful. We had a large gathering for dinner, again. Even though many had left Winterfell for their own homes, the hall was bustling with life. I listened to various lords complain about Jon, again. It was a repeat of recent days past. We managed to eat and drink and get off the same old negative topic. Talks of defeating our foes turned to happier stories as the men drank. A certain sense of camaraderie filled the hall tonight. 

Petyr stood off to the side and watched me with hungry eyes. That expression made my cheeks hot as I felt the flush of blood rise up. 

Someone had managed to find a few instruments and started to play a bit of music. The mood of the room instantly lifted as lads and ladies shook off their woes and enjoyed a dance. 

Petyr strode up the center of the hall and stood before me at the table. He bowed and offered me his hand. “Would you be so kind as to dance with me, Your Grace?” 

I nodded and rose from my seat. “I’d be honored, Lord Baelish.” 

He guided me toward the center of the room. We stood facing each other and my mind went blank. I managed to arrange myself into the correct stance. At first, he was very formal, hands in the correct places, stiff posture, the image of propriety. The music was lively instead of stuffy, formal, ballroom fodder. He smiled that wicked smile and loosened up his posture. He pulled me in as we began to dance. I quickly lost my stiff posture as well and let my movements flow to match his. 

He was an excellent dancer. I could have been a sack of grain and he would have been just as graceful. I was enjoying the dance, twirled this way and that, spun back into his arms close enough to hear a small purring grunt of desire as I collapsed into him at the end. 

“Was that to your liking, my lady?” he asked me, not breathing hard at all. 

“Yes, my lord,” was all I could say. My mind was not interested in talking. 

“Walk with me.” His eyes searched mine as he spoke, not a question, not a command. Something more playful. 

I nodded in consent. He took my arm as we left the great hall. We walked in silence through the corridors and up to the top tower. 

We reached his destination and looked over the site below us. Happy people meandering about the grounds. A few animals settled down as the evening sky grew darker. 

I looked up to the sky and took a deep breath before I turned to him to speak. 

“Lord Baelish, I’ve reconsidered your offer.” 

“My offer?” he said, surprised. 

“Yes,” I said slowly. “Marriage. I agree that with this arrangement, we make a strong alliance.” 

“Sansa, I did not propose out of the desire to forge a strong alliance. You’ve captured my heart. Yes, the alliance positions us to make a move upon the Lannisters, but I think you know that the Iron Throne is not the only thing that I desire.” 

I caught sight of a wicked gleam in his eye. 

“I do know what you desire,” I sighed. “Petyr, I expect you to court me properly. If this marriage is anything less than ideal...” 

“No, my love, don’t think that,” he said huskily as he leaned into me. “You will never regret it. I swear it.” 

I duck my head a bit, before he can kiss me. “I’m certain Jon will disapprove,” I said, looking up at him through my lashes. 

“Yes, but he will come around. He’s a smart leader. He’ll see the merit in our union eventually.” 

He leaned over and took my hand. His thumb traced the ridges of my knuckles before placing a kiss on top. 

“My Queen, please allow me to escort you downstairs,” he said. “It would be a fine time to announce this bit of news.” 

I bit my lip at this, torn over publicly announcing the engagement this soon. “My lord, a celebration will wait until you’ve courted me a fortnight. I deserve that much.” 

“Ah, yes, sweetling. As you wish.” 

He guided me back down stairs as he spoke. “You should have everything your heart desires. Since your previous marriages were less desirable than I had intended, I plan on making it up to you.” 

We’d stopped outside my chamber. He licked his lips and leaned in to whisper in my ear like earlier. It was somehow closer and even more appealing this time. 

“Not tonight, though. Perhaps in a fortnight.” He stayed close to my neck a long moment. I could feel his breath on my skin. I shivered in anticipation. Yet, he made no move. 

I looked him in the eye, disbelief carved into my features. He winked. 

He was maddening. I leaned back into the wall, making a small dissatisfied grunt. He swooped as I’d hoped he would, one arm on each side of me, palms against the wall. Something about the noise I’d made ignited the spark in his eyes. 

“Petyr,” I began to protest. My hands had a mind their own and found hold of his jacket. 

He placed a finger to my lips to shush me. “Sweetling, I know about this afternoon.” 

Puzzled, I searched his face for a clue. His usual smirk said nothing new, but his eyes twinkled. 

“I stopped by your chamber after we met in the courtyard. Since you’d hurried off so fast, I wanted to extend an offer to assist.” His voice went from playful to husky. “But as I was about to knock, I heard sounds from inside,” his voice trailed off. 

Realization dawned on me. I was alone, heard a noise and went back to... 

Oh. OH. He knew. 

I felt the warmth of blushing spread furiously over my face. The flutters in my stomach went from peaceful to manic in the same second. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” I tried to look as innocent as possible as the words tumbled from my lips. 

“You were far from quiet.” His hand slipped up to smooth a thumb over my lips, before moving down my jaw to my neck and up into my hair. “I can only imagine what you were doing. It sounded quite enjoyable.” 

I was speechless. We were nose to nose. Hoping for him to make some kind of move, I arched and tried to find contact with my breasts against his chest. Then his hand left my neck and I felt the chill of distance between us. 

“Sleep well, my love. I have plans for us in the morning.” 

He took my hand, traced my knuckles with his thumb, then kissed them before striding away. 

 

***** 

In the light of morning, I stepped to the window of my chamber to enjoy seeing the fresh snow covering the grounds. The maid entered just as I noticed the familiar sight of Lord Baelish hovering near a squire preparing two horses in the yard. He must have felt my eyes look upon him. He turned and gave me a smirk and small beckoning wave. 

I called upon the maid to help me dress and gather my furs, gloves, and warm boots. In minutes, I was ready for a ride and almost raced downstairs to the yard. My gods, what was wrong with me? I was suddenly acting like a giddy child. 

The air was again crisp and cold as I took in a deep breath. Smoke from the fireplaces were the only marks against the clear, blue sky. 

He approached me with an outstretched hand. 

“If it pleases Your Grace, I’ve prepared the horses so that we might take a ride this morning.” 

All the formality is there. I’m Queen and he’s called me by the proper title. It makes me smile. 

“Lord Baelish, this is a fine idea. I accept your offer.” There. I can be formal, too. 

We mount the horses and take a short ride into the countryside. We stop on a hill where we can overlook the lands below. It had been many years since I was able to look from this vantage point. It is serene today. Everything sparkling and white, edges smoothed by the softness of snow. 

I turn towards Petyr. I sit up a little taller as we survey the lands, my lands. He’s quiet, studying me. I had to fight down the urge to throw myself off my horse and into his arms. 

Here we were, alone on a hilltop in my homelands. I was aching for some sort of positive human contact. What was I waiting for? What did I have to lose? 

“My lord, would you be so kind to help me off this horse so that we could walk a bit amongst the trees?” I asked quietly, meekly. 

He gracefully dismounted his horse and practically swept me off of mine. He was strong for being so slim. 

I wasn’t exactly sure why I wanted this. I’d been married twice and still had no idea what love and intimacy were really like. I blinked at him a few times while I gathered my wits. His hold on me was gentle, yet strong. His hands soon left my waist and surrounded my face. 

Petyr’s eyes sparkled as he leaned in, his lips stopping just a breath away from my lips. In that instant, I closed the gap. 

The kiss was different from the one my aunt witnessed. That kiss was timid, his need was in check. This kiss was tender, slow and soft at first. My lips tingled at the sweetness of it. His facial hair brushed against my smooth skin. Soon, I was kissing him harder, longer, our tongues toying with each other. It was unlike anything I’d felt before. I was soaring from his kiss. 

My arms wound around him as I pressed myself to him. His chest was solid against mine. We were panting and little cloud puffs floated upwards in the cold air as we caught our breath. 

“Come to the trees. I know a scenic place I think you’ll enjoy,” I say, taking a half step away from him. 

He held my hand and guided the horses. We took a little turn into the trees and I found one of my old hiding places. A large, partially hollowed out tree still stood, just as I remembered it. 

I walked up to the tree and took off one glove as I laid a hand against the rough bark of the trunk. “I loved this tree as a girl. This tree felt so safe. I used to run out here to escape my family.” 

“Sansa,” he said my name again with that breathiness. His eyes swept over me. He took one slow, deliberate step closer. 

I backed up to the tree, took his hand and pulled him in close. 

This time his kiss was firmer, rougher but not unpleasant. I found myself leaning in, pulling him in, breathing him in. He gently held my face and I snaked my hands around his neck. His hair was so soft, dark on top, a bit of gray at the temples, but all silky. 

Soon, his hands moved around me under my cloak of furs, then up my back. I could feel his heart beating. He was warm and his touch was welcome. His kiss left my lips and travelled to my neck where my pulse was pounding. 

“Sweetling, I’ve dreamed of this moment a very long time.” 

He nipped at my neck and up to my earlobes. His touch sent goosepimples coursing over my body. His hand strayed to the front of my bodice as he lifted his face to mine. Toying with the lacings that laid between my breasts, he started to tug and loosen them very slowly. 

“My Queen, would you like for me to continue?” he asked between soft kisses. 

All words were completely forgotten. I looked into his darkening green-gray eyes and nodded. 

I took a deep breath as he loosened the lacings enough to reach inside. He pulled my gown and shift down enough expose my breasts. My pink nipples hardened in the cold air. I watched him as he cupped each and slowly teased the peaks with his fingers. He kept his eyes locked on mine. The sensations sent shockwaves to my core. I leaned back into the tree and arched up as he continued to twist and squeeze my nipples. 

One hand let go, but he replaced it with his mouth. Even more waves of pleasure coursed through me. My hands reached for his face and pulled him up into a long, wet kiss. 

I noticed a breeze under my gown as he started to pull it up, gathering it at my waist. I looked down in curiosity. 

“Don’t fret, my love. I should have done this to you ages ago.” 

He pressed against my knees, forcing me to take a wider stance. One hand roved over the soft skin of my thighs. The other hand was back up fondling a breast. I held up the skirts as he knelt, breathing in my essence. Both hands now were on my hips as he removed my smallclothes. 

“Gods, Sansa, you are a true beauty.” 

I was uncertain of what he would do next, but I wasn’t scared. He gazed at the soft, pale flesh of my body, then the fiery hairs of my womanhood, and started to slide his hands lower and closer to the very same spot I had touched the day before. A shudder ran through me as his hand covered my mound. 

His touch was slow and gentle as he stroked me there. A sharp intake of breath told him that I was immensely enjoying his motions. 

I let my eyes fall shut only a moment as the divine sensations of his fingers worked upon me. I felt as if something new, some new world was opening up before me. The sensations grew wetter, slippery. As I looked back down, I realized his face was buried, lapping lazily at my nub and his fingers were pressing against my opening. I squealed as he entered me with a single finger. A few strokes that way, then another finger slipped inside. Together, his fingers and mouth created sensations of utter bliss. 

I realized then that I was moaning, my fingers were in his hair pressing him into my womanhood. I couldn’t stop myself. Legs shaking, I was straining to take all the pleasure he could deliver. Looking down at Petyr as he brought me to orgasm was my undoing. I reached the peak and exploded into a gasping, shaking mess against his face and hand. 

I called out “Petyr!” followed by a guttural moan as my climax crashed over me. 

I’d never felt anything that powerful. Apparently, I had never fully climaxed before. For a moment, I forgot about everything. I was a million shooting stars in the sky. I forgot who we were and what we’d been planning. I was just a woman and he was just a man. And he was right. I was not going to regret a moment of this. 

When he sure I had been sated, he stood again. I pulled him in for another kiss. My wetness covered his mouth, but it was good. I was dizzy with it all. Somehow, I was ready for more. 

He leaned into me and I felt his hardness against me. I reached for his waist and inched lower, but he stopped me. 

“Mm, my love,” he purred in my ear. “We’ll save that part for later. As much as I’ve enjoyed this, I do need to show my respect for your wishes to be courted.” 

He unrumpled my skirts and started to adjust the bodice to lace me in. He smirked at me a truly wicked expression as he licked his lips. My wetness was still there for him to savor. 

“But, Petyr,” I started to protest. “You didn’t-” 

He hushed me with another sensual kiss. Oh gods, he was great kisser. 

“Are you still sure you don’t want to announce our engagement? It would make visiting you late at night much less suspicious.” 

The man had a point. And I was aching for him. I was ready to agree to anything. 

“Well, you could be right,” I conceded. A little piece of pride wouldn’t allow me to just say yes. I wove my arms around him, hoping that there was more pleasure he was willing to bestow on my neglected and tortured body. Except this torture was something I’d gladly endure. 

“Right about what?” he teased me with another kiss. 

“Visiting my chamber...at night..or not at night,” I said between breathy, panting squeals as I tried to grind my hips into his. 

“What about the proper courting period, my love?” He was restraining himself, holding very still except for one hand stroking my hair. 

He had me right where he wanted me. I hadn’t seen it before. Years of teaching me about the world and politics, the ruse of taking poor little me under his wing flashed in front of my eyes. 

Everything he’d done to protect me, from helping me escape King’s Landing as Joffrey choked on poisoned wine, to the odd family reunion in the Vale with Aunt Lysa when he’d married her and then promptly shoved her to her death for threatening me, it all made sense. I had a moment of clarity. He’d been the puppeteer all along. He’d shaped me into who I was today. He groomed me into this. He really was a mastermind at playing the long game. 

It was very a strange sensation to be face to face with him, almost begging him to ravage me, knowing that he’d been the creator of my fate. Somehow, my twisted and abused mind thought it all made sense. Somehow, I knew we were perfect for each other. No other man would understand what we had been through, what I had been through, and what I needed. 

I stopped moving and looked deep into his steely eyes. I chuckled as I recognized the desire there. 

“Fine. Tonight we announce our engagement. We’ll send ravens to everyone in every corner of Westeros.” I was dying to wrap my legs around him. 

He gazed at me knowingly, before stealing a final kiss. “Can you wait to consummate the marriage on our wedding night?” He was blatantly toying with me. 

"If not, you’ll be the first to know,” I slowly drew out each word as a whisper. My hands settled at his waist and pulled myself into his hips for one, last deep grind. 

“Let’s head back to Winterfell and make this happen,” I announced with a bit of flair. “You wouldn’t want to me change my mind, would you, my lord?” 

We remounted the horses and took off at a good run. There was a wedding to plan and I was going to need a new gown or two. Maybe even a third in case he ripped one to shreds off my body. That idea would be something to savor until the wedding night. 

At that thought, a fortnight seemed a lifetime away as we rode home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wants the D...and she gets what she wants!

Over the course of the rest of the day, I’d performed my typical duties. Visiting with lords under my protection and granting them assistance in some way when needed was a tiresome chore. It was necessary to keep them happy and compliant. I answered some correspondence by raven and took stock of our supplies. 

New folks were flocking to Winterfell as word of the coming war spread. Many were skeptical that the undead creatures from beyond the wall were real. However, they absolutely didn’t want to risk staying home only to be wiped out by the Lannister’s army. They sought refuge here and I was obligated to offer our protection for their loyalty. 

Throughout the afternoon, I’d encounter Lord Baelish performing his tasks. As I walked the grounds, I’d catch a glimpse of his dark hair and strain to see who he was talking with. Once, I even let my eyes travel down his broad shoulders, memorizing the way they tapered down to his narrow hips. Gods help me. That man made me feel like a starving street rat who happened upon a banquet. I was distracted from my duties, to say the least. 

Brienne was my escort for the better part of the day and she noticed the shift in my behavior. 

“Lady Sansa, please don’t be alarmed at my concern, but you are not yourself today,” she pondered. 

She followed my gaze and stood directly in front of me, blocking my view. 

“Has something happened, my lady? You know that I would do anything, and I mean anything, since I swore my oath to you.” She looked at me very hard, her eyes had narrowed slightly in contemplation. 

“I assure you; everything is fine.” I had to force myself to look directly at her even though she was blocking a lovely view of Petyr’s back side. 

Brienne scowled. She was quite intimidating, standing six feet tall, clad in armor and glaring at Petyr with her piercing blue eyes. She didn’t push the issue further, but I could tell she was thinking about it. 

She lowered her voice and asked “Have you received any news? Any ravens from your brother?” 

“No, nothing. I had hoped for something, but it must be too soon.” I was doing my best to focus on her again and appear rational and intelligent even though my mind was still picturing Petyr on his knees in front me from this morning. 

“My lady, you’ve been flushed today. If you aren’t feeling well, I’ll call for the maester to see you in private.” Brienne’s concern was heartfelt. 

“No, no. I’ve been very busy today. I do think I should have some privacy. Perhaps a few moments will be all I need.” I turned towards the gathering hall and left dear Brienne behind. 

I didn’t have much on my mind. How to feed the growing army? How could we prepare for attack from the undead creatures? How could I squeeze in a wedding and some wedding night bliss before life as I knew if possibly died out? Nothing major there. 

Despite the nastiness facing us, I kept thinking of the one thing good in my life. Petyr. Planning for a wedding was no small task. I had few ladies I trusted and relied upon any more. I couldn’t just chat up anyone and ask for help planning the wedding, could I? 

Certainly, Brienne was out of the question. She was loyal and would go to the ends of the earth for me, but she was more manly than most men. She’d rather not be forced into planning a wedding. I valued her devotion to me. Perhaps she’d agree to be a witness. 

I entered the hall and looked around. The hand fasting ceremony itself was short and sweet, and probably best outside in the godswood. A brief chill of memory washed through me as Ramsay’s face surfaced. He’d taken me to the heart tree to say our vows. Stubbornness welled up inside. I felt that I had to reclaim a part of me by saying my vows to Petyr there. This time, it would be on my terms. I wiped away a small tear that had formed, mourning a bit of myself that had been lost. 

I shook away the sad image and instead I pictured the sea of faces that awaited us in the great hall. The dinner celebration to follow our wedding vows was the high point for our guests. A hearty meal was always welcome at such gatherings. Imagining the room flooded in candlelight, filled with merriment, I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. 

I felt as though another chain that had bound me to my past had dropped away, releasing me from a burden bestowed on me at a younger age. Instead of thinking too hard, I let a smile cross my lips. Something good was in my future and I felt hopeful. 

 

******* 

After I’d had a chance to revel in my moment of daydreaming happiness, I brought myself back to matter at hand. I intentionally stalked Petyr. He was still outside the great hall when I caught up to him. We needed a plan. 

“Lord Baelish, if you’ve concluded business out here, I need your advice.” 

His expression was curious, his lips pursed and he quirked an eye brow at my request. “Certainly, Your Grace. Would you mind giving me a clue as to which aspect you need advice on?” 

He followed me to the library. The old maesters saved every scroll here, every message sent by raven, as well. A fire was crackling in the fireplace in front of a large table where a map of the north was laid out. We stood at the edge of the table studying its shapes. 

“I need your advice on strategy. I’m not worried about the Lannisters, but I am worried about the creatures from the North,” I said pointing to the map. “Jon will be returning home soon. I’m not sure we can do anything to protect ourselves, but I hate to run.” 

“Your brother is the key to our success, my dear. If we reach a point that he no longer serves our purposes, that’s when we adjust our strategy. We remove our enemies and the then the game is over” 

“I’m not willing to hand over the North if he brings the dragon woman here for help,” I said curtly. “We need to plan how to fight her because that time will come.” 

Petyr gazed at me, appreciating my tone. He answered with a simple “Yes” as he drummed his fingers on the table. 

He tapped one long, elegant finger at a place on the map. “If the gods allow us to defeat the night creatures, this place would be best to mount an attack on Danerys.” 

“Dragons or no dragons, she will have more men. How can we defeat her? By sheer will?” I was picturing a vast horde of followers, an undulating sea of humans. 

“Wasn’t she borne by a woman? Doesn’t she age? Doesn’t she bleed?” 

“Yes, but she is the unburned. Fire can’t harm her, so I’m not sure what will.” I remembered then that Jon had mentioned that dragonglass pierced the skin of the undead and made them crumble to the earth finally still. I wondered if some magical properties would make it work upon her as well. 

“Do you think that she is immortal?” he asked. He shook his head and snorted. “Dragons can be defeated and so can she.” He tapped the map again for emphasis, not pointing at anywhere particular. 

“When the time is right, we will defeat her. It might take a witch or it might take a blade of dragonglass to make it happen, but we will find a way to secure your claim the throne.” He took my hand, kissed my knuckles, and wove his fingers with my own. 

“I swear it, my Queen. I would do anything for you, including murder your brother and his lover if I have to.” His eyes were cold and hard as he spoke. 

A chill ran down my spine at his words. A younger, more innocent version of myself would have been appalled at the suggestion. This new Sansa, Queen of the North, found his words extremely enticing, arousing even. His unyielding devotion for me was heady, addicting. I felt myself grow wet at the thought of having uncontested control. With this cunning man at my side, anything was possible. 

He must have sensed what I was thinking. His expression softened as I cocked my head to the side and studied him. His arms wrapped around me in a protective embrace. I leaned in and let my forehead rest against his. 

“Lord Baelish, I think I’m falling in love with you.” 

A real smile lit up his face as my words sunk in. It was genuine as it touched his eyes, making those crinkles that only I am allowed to see. The steely, cold gray was promptly changed to a much warmer green gray as he looked deep into my blue eyes. He also appeared much younger when he smiled. 

“Sansa, you know I’ve loved you a long time. It pleases me to finally be your chosen husband. You are here by your own right and I will never betray you.” 

His lips crushed against mine as he fought to keep his composure. We were in sync, sharing our breaths as our tongues and lips danced together. One hand slid down my back all the way down to the curve of my backside. He took hold of one cheek, squeezed me and pressed me into him. I returned the favor by using both hands to reach his back side and pull him in even closer. 

He turned me slightly and backed me up to the table. With a small lift and nudge, I was seated on the edge. I wasn’t even thinking as I pulled my skirts up and spread my legs as he stepped toward me. It felt so natural, so simple, so true. 

A knock at the door interrupted us. Petyr took a swift step to the side as I hopped off the table and called out permission to enter. 

It was the maester with news. Visitors that I must greet had just arrived, although he didn’t say whom. 

We left the reading room and approached the courtyard. I couldn’t believe my eyes! My brother Bran, a tired curly-haired girl, and small group of Night’s Watchmen had arrived from the wall. All I could see was my little brother and I rushed to hug him. 

A plump, shortish man greeted me but I was put off by Bran’s behavior. Bran was distant and odd. He knew things that no ordinary person should know, as if he had a preternatural ability. He said I looked beautiful at my wedding to Ramsey and that made me shudder. How? Something very strange had happened to him after he fled Winterfell and escaped to the North. I vowed to find out more when the time was right. Perhaps the Gods were sending us a message and Bran was the messenger. 

 

****** 

That evening, after proper introductions to the men from the Night’s Watch, I was able to think clearly. I shook the memory of Ramsey and the horrors of our wedding night. I was able to focus solely on dinner and how we’d proceed with announcing the wedding arrangement. I expected some dissent, so the delivery of this news had to be tactful. 

The great hall was full. All business matters were completed. Food and drink were in generous supply. I could sense the energy of the room had reached a point close to contentment. Bran sat to my left at the head table, mesmerized by the conversations happening nearby. 

I motioned for Petyr to approach. He stood behind me on my right. We both surveyed the room before calling for everyone’s attention. 

“Lords and ladies, I thank you all for your dedication to House Stark. As you’re all aware, we would not be here tonight if not for Lord Baelish answering our plea for help. As Lord Protector of the Vale, he has publicly pledged himself to our cause.” I glanced around before continuing. 

“Tonight, you all will be the first to know. Lord Baelish has entreated me to join our houses in marriage. We will be able to take a stand against opposing forces and remain an independent kingdom in the North. I have accepted his offer and we will marry on the night of the next full moon.” 

I wasn’t sure how this news would be received, but as more and more clapping and chanting rose up, I knew this would please some but not all. I smiled, watching the toasts of good fortune raised to us, I spotted a familiar dark head of hair in the back of the room. I soon caught the dark-eyed glare of my sister Arya. Could it be real? Arya was here! 

I stood, intending to rush to find her, but Petyr’s arm captured me about my waist. He pushed my goblet into my hand and raised his goblet in toast. 

“A toast to Queen Sansa, my future wife!” 

Cheers filled the hall. He took a long drink, finishing off the wine in his goblet. He dropped it to the table and swept me up into his arms. He didn’t kiss me in front of everyone, but the smoldering look he gave me said it was only a matter of time. 

“If you’ll excuse us, I must discuss a few important matters with my wife,” he bellowed to the crowd. His statement was met with more cheers and a few wolf-whistles. Even the high-born have base desires and understood his innuendo. 

Back on my feet, he whisked me through the corridors. Soon, we were in my chambers. He bolted the door and turned to me. I expected to find the naughty, wicked gaze, but instead I saw something else. I saw tenderness. 

“My love,” he said, taking my hand. “I know what you have suffered. I will not force you to do anything. We will go slow.” He smiled then said, “I know that this probably means more to me than it does to you.” 

“No, Petyr, don’t say that. I know what you are, who you are. There is no place I’d rather be and no other person I’d rather have at my side.” 

“Sansa,” he breathed my name and stepped close, his eyes held my gaze. “I’m not a good person.” 

“You are to me,” I replied. I wound my arms around his neck and rubbed my nose against his. 

“We will rule the seven kingdoms, you and I,” he whispered. 

“Yes, we will.” I kissed him. Our lips trembled at first. It was both soft and hungry. Petyr’s hand wove into my hair. He removed all the adornments, loosened the braids with his fingers, and let my hair fall down long and loose over my shoulders. 

“There. Beautiful.” He stole another kiss as his fingers trailed down my back. 

I broke away as a truly raunchy image came to mind. It made my pulse quicken. I licked my lips and asked, “How much would you like to sit on the iron throne?” 

He narrowed his eyes and answered, “You know my every move is to bring us closer to that reality.” 

I nipped at his bottom lip. My voice was lower, with a teasing lilt. “How much would you like me there with you?” 

“Sansa, that’s all I’ve been dreaming for ages now.” 

I turned and climbed up onto the feather bed, patting a spot for him to join me. “Petyr, how much would like it if I weren’t just up there with you?” 

He loosened his jacket, tossed it aside and joined me on the bed. “What do you mean, sweetling?” 

I pushed him onto his back and hefted my skirts to straddle him. His eye’s popped in surprise. I’d never acted this way and the jolt of power over him was very arousing. I settled directly on his lap and felt his hardness growing. 

I moaned as I rubbed myself on him. He reached up to begin undressing me. Layers of clothing peeled off my body with his touch following. Undone lacing tickled me as it repeatedly drew slack against me then tight again as he systematically removed each strand. The cool air started to reach the skin of shoulders, then my back and arms as he pushed my gown away. His hands skated over my exposed skin as he studied me with a rapt expression. 

“Beautiful, so beautiful.” His hands settled at my waist as he said this. 

The raunchy image from a moment ago played in my mind’s eye. I blurted out “Petyr, how much would you like it if we took the iron throne and fucked like nothing else mattered right there? I’d ride your cock just like this and moan your name. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

His face darkened with raw desire. He ripped my remaining clothes off and slid his fingers down to feel my wetness. I moaned again as he loosened his trousers and freed himself from their confines. 

Holy gods! He was a sight to behold. Large, not so large as to be alarming, but he definitely made Ramsay look like a toddler. All the rumors about his “little finger” were 100% incorrect. 

I reached down to stroke him with my hands. My wetness was growing thinking about how it would feel to have that specimen inside me. I traced a finger up the length of him and teased the tip as little droplets of his own moisture grew. He moaned and laid back into the bed, watching me as I stroked him. 

“How would you like to hear me gasping King Petyr, first of his name, ruler of the seven kingdoms as I ride you on the iron throne? As I call out for the only man to have my heart and my cunt in all of Westeros?” 

He shuddered in pleasure as I slid his hard, gorgeous cock against my folds. I leaned forward to intertwine our fingers and hold his arms up above his head. 

I kissed him and it was rough, but sensual. I even slid away from his glorious cock enough to let him suck my nipples and nip me. That sent shockwaves to my core, making me want even more. 

We kissed again, deeper, wetter. I let go of his hands to steady myself above him. Both of his hands found my hips and reached behind me to grab my ass, trying to spread me even wider 

His cock was positioned just at my opening and I rocked back ever so slowly to feel him enter me. At first, it was just the tip. Then as I slowly let him enter me deeper, I felt the tightness and the fullness of him. It was both pleasure and pain for a moment, but I didn’t stop. The pain subsided and was replaced by only more pleasure as he was deep inside me. The fullness was amazing. 

I moved on top of him until I found the right rhythm. As he thrust upwards into me, I groaned. I could feel the building intensity. He was thrusting quicker and I was close to losing control. It was so good, I couldn’t keep my eyes open because they were rolling back towards the heavens. 

“Sansa, my love, I’m so close,” he panted. 

“I am, too, oh, Petyr!” I was almost there. I looked at him and saw the expression of awe covering his face. 

He reached up to fondle my nipples. He tugged and pinched them as I grew even closer to climax. He grabbed my hips and thrust up one more time, deep and hard and held me there as he groaned “Ah, Sansa!” The expression on his face as he came was a mixture of rapture and disbelief. My own climax was set off seeing him, hearing him, and feeling that last pump inside me. 

I couldn’t speak, only wail as I convulsed in ecstasy. He snaked his hand between us to rub his thumb over my clit making it all even more intense. I shuddered many times as I gave myself to him then. Finally, the ecstasy settled and I saw his expression as he watched me. 

“I am the luckiest man alive to get to see this for the rest of my life. Sansa, my queen, I love you.” 

Exhausted, I slumped into him. He pushed a few sweaty strands of hair away from my face. 

“I love you, my king with the glorious godly cock.” I gave him a smirk before kissing him again. 

I slid off, admiring his body, so hard and sculpted. We settled into the softness of my bed and sleep overcame us together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya's back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut in this chapter, but some plot is needed to propel the story onward.

The following morning, I awoke to the feeling of being watched. It was very early and dawn had not broken. It was dim but not totally dark. Somehow, the fire was still burning. I turned in the bed enough to see Petyr beside me, still asleep and breathing softly. The furs were pulled down enough to see the chiseled form of his chest with a large scar running from near his collar bone to below the covers. I smiled at the thought of what was just below. It was then that I heard someone clear their throat. 

Startled, I looked to where the noise had come from. 

Arya was sitting in the chair beside the fireplace looking every bit as angry as I imagined she could. Her dark, piercing stare focused on the man beside me. 

“Get out of bed,” she hissed. “We need to talk about how you lost all your senses.” 

“How did you even get in here?” I squeaked. “The door was bolted.” 

“I have many skills you know nothing about. Now, get up.” 

I realized that all my clothes were out of reach. I pointed to the shift heaped on the floor near Arya’s foot. “If you could?” 

Exasperated, she reached down and tossed it to me, glaring. 

I tugged it over my head and slipped out of bed, making my way towards her. I padded quietly to keep from waking Petyr. 

“I see you’ve taken our parents’ room,” she stated with a sneer. 

“Jon insisted when he left to find the dragon queen. As the oldest Stark offspring, I couldn’t refuse.” I replied coolly. 

“So now you’re bedding strange men. I didn’t realize that you turned Winterfell into a brothel and that you’re Madam innkeeper,” she snarled. 

“It’s nothing like that. I saw you in the hall last night when our marriage was announced-” I was cut off. 

“Sansa, why Littlefinger? Of all the people in Westeros, why him?” She whispered angrily. “He’s a terrible man and nothing but harm to our family and to our home will come of this. He’s only out for himself.” Her voice rose in volume slightly as she stood and pointed at him. 

“Arya, it makes sense if you’ll let me explain.” I placed my hand on her outstretched hand. 

“No, Sansa. It can never make sense. Unless you have turned as terrible as him.” She pulled her hand away from me and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“You’re right. I’m not the same girl I once was. You have no idea what I endured. I’ve been beaten by Joffrey and Meryn Trant. I was beaten and nearly raped by a group of men in King’s Landing. Thank the gods that the Hound rescued me. Then, I was married to Ramsey Bolton, who was a cruel man that took pleasure in causing me unspeakable pain. I’m doing this to strengthen and unify the North. Where have you been for so many years? What do you know of protecting our house and lands?” I spat back. 

She was stubborn. I saw understanding creep across her face and then immediately turn back to stone. “Fine, fine. I was in Braavos training to be a faceless man. I’ve been learning to fight so I can actually protect our home,” she offered. I shot her a curious look since I had no idea what a faceless man was. She shrugged and glanced back at Petyr. “Still you are in bed with the enemy. He will use you, your name especially, to achieve his own goals. You know that, but do you know what he really wants?” She gestured at me, waving her hands up and down indicating my body. 

“I know what he wants. I know his goals and they are something we have in common.” 

A look of pure disgust swept over Arya’s visage. “You have changed. I never thought you would...” 

I cut her off “I’m doing this to get back at Cersei. He’s the one that can help me. The Lannisters will pay for everything. They killed our father. They backed Walder Frey when he murdered our brother and mother. The Lannisters ripped our lives apart.” 

She narrowed her eyes and was quiet, absorbing what I said. 

I continued, “Cersei is the reason we are in the situation. She will stop at nothing. It’s up to us to stop her. We need to fight back, to show her the North remembers.” 

“Cersei. I hate her. I want her dead. She’s on my list.” She squeezed her hands into fists as she spoke. The tension in her body loosened as she realized we shared a common enemy. 

“So do I. So does Petyr. He’s protector of the Vale and we need his army. Then you see this isn’t such a bad arrangement after all?” 

She turned toward the fire, considering my question. After a few moments she turned back to me. 

“It’s fine for now, but don’t act surprised when Littlefinger gets what he wants and tosses you aside.” 

Her words awoke a fear in me, a seedling of doubt. Petyr had been my companion and mentor for a long time. I knew he could be ruthless. He taught me to plan for all possible outcomes so I’d never be caught off guard. I hoped she was wrong. 

“I suppose you didn’t consider that this is all part of my plan, yes, my own plan. That I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get revenge,” I countered. “Now, you need to leave. I have other things to attend to.” I gestured toward the bed with a sideways nod. 

“Disgusting!” she declared as she strode to the door. “We’ll talk later when you’re decent. Meet me in the crypt after you’ve taken care of whatever it is you need to take care of.” 

She left almost silently. I never heard her footsteps on the floor and the way she slipped out the door was almost as if she were a ghost. The only sound was the faintest creak of the door as it swung on its hinges. 

I sighed and climbed back into bed. I promptly scooted in close, laid my head on his chest and put my arm over Petyr’s belly. He wasn’t a hairy man, but he had just enough covering his chest and trailing down below the covers. 

“Thank you, my love. Standing up for your husband is one of the finest ways to wake up.” 

I sighed. “I didn’t know you were awake. How much did you hear?” I looked up to his face to see his eyes were still closed. 

“Everything,” he smirked and opened one eye. “Do you think she will be a problem?” 

I hesitated “No. If we can convince Jon, she’ll follow.” I traced little circles with my fingernails across the skin of his abdomen. I could see the ridges of muscle there. I glanced at him again to see both eyes were open now, watching me with interest. 

“Do you believe her, sweetling? That I will toss you aside after I’ve had my fill?” His voice was low. 

“No.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt at that moment. 

“It’s important to have her on your side. We can’t have her turning on you.” Petyr’s gaze was cold again. 

“I’ll talk to her in private. She won’t be a problem. If she turns, I’ll kill her myself.” 

I lifted my head and stretched up to press my lips to his for a brief kiss. 

“Now that we’re up, we might as well resume our household duties.” I slipped out of bed quickly. Something in my gut told me to get up and be ready for anything. 

 

****** 

Arya was standing in front of our father’s tomb when I found her. Her expression was stoic. 

“You didn’t take nearly as long as I expected, Lady Stark” she said. Turning to look over her shoulder at me she added “Must have been a very small task indeed.” 

“Arya, don’t be so rude!” I gave her a playful slap on the arm. She gave me a guilty smile in return. 

“Littlefinger? I’m sure he’s heard it all by now.” She chuckled. 

“Well, the irony is that it’s not little, dear sister. But I’m sure you didn’t call me down here to talk about that.” 

“No and please spare me the details. I really don’t want to know any more.” She grimaced and continued. “Sansa, it’s just so good to be home.” She rushed to embrace me. A certain comfort that I hadn’t felt in ages came from having my little sister with me then. 

We were silent for an eternity, just enjoying the closeness. After a deep breath, Arya stepped back and looked again at the statue of father. 

“It doesn’t look like him.” She laid her hands on the face of statue, tracing the nose that was too pointed, the cheekbones that were too flat. 

“All the people that did know him are dead.” 

“Not us.” 

“You’re right. Not us, but we aren’t skilled in carving statues.” 

She dropped her hands and simply stood by my side. After a small pause, she turned to face me and said, “Tell me how Joffrey died. Was it you or the imp? I’ve heard many rumors.” 

“It was neither of us. We were pawns dragged into it. It was the day of Joffrey and Margaery’s wedding. Joffrey was a complete twat to Tyrion.” 

“Did you just call him a twat? Old Sansa would have never said something like that!” Arya gasped at my choice of language. 

“Well, he was a twat! He made Tyrion act like a servant, pouring and serving him wine. He was causing a spectacle. Then, he started to choke on the wine. Bulging eyes, gasping for air, all that nastiness.” I added some gestures as I spoke, hands at my throat like I was choking. “He collapsed in front of everyone. Cersei immediately blamed me and Tyrion. An old friend helped me escape to the harbor where Lord Baelish happened to be waiting for me.” 

Arya digested my story and looked at me with her mouth in a grim line. “Sansa. When I was travelling...” 

“You mean running?” I interrupted. 

“Not really running, travelling is more accurate. I was in a city and saw a play. They re-enacted the wedding scene. I thought it was all embellished to cast Cersei in a positive light. But now I know the truth.” 

“Yes, that’s what happened.” 

“Sansa!” She was exasperated. “Littlefinger happened to be in the right place, at the right time. He’s the one that killed Joffrey!” 

“No, it wasn’t him.” 

“Gods, you can be slow!” 

“No, it honestly wasn’t him. You wouldn’t believe me if I said who it really was, though.” 

“Try me.” Arya held my gaze fiercely. 

I took a deep breath before answering. “It was Margaery’s grandmother, Lady Olenna. She knew Joffrey was a monster because I told her of everything he did to me and others. She set the plan in motion.” 

“Too bad I didn’t get to him first. He was on my list.” Arya squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. She opened them again and asked, “How was it that Littlefinger happened to be there to save the day?” 

“Because he just was!” 

“You’re saying that out of the goodness of his heart, he saved you from Cersei’s wrath?” 

“It’s more complicated than that.” 

Arya opened her mouth to speak again but shut it. After a moment of reconsidering her words she said, “Explain what happened next. I need to know.” 

“We sailed to the Eyrie. I colored my hair and masqueraded as his niece. The disguise worked very well. Cersei couldn’t know where I was because she would have had me killed. Plus, Petyr was sent by Cersei to marry Aunt Lysa. It was a move to gain control over the Knights of the Vale.” 

“And he had no intention of honoring Cersei’s wishes, right?” 

“He did marry Aunt Lysa, but he had no plans to back Cersei.” I knew I had to choose my words carefully. Arya was good at uncovering my lies. 

“And then she died. I know. I was with the Hound then and he planned to ransom me to her. We arrived at the Bloody Gate, asked for entrance to see Lady Arryn and were informed that she’d died three days earlier. So, the Hound carried me off, looking for another way to make a few coins off of me. You realize that I was a mere gateway away from you then?” 

“I had no idea. Everyone thought you were dead. When you vanished at Father’s execution...” I sniffled and couldn’t say any more. 

A little tenderness came out in Arya’s voice. “You thought you lost both of us that day? I escaped by the skin of my teeth. I was supposed to hide among a group of boys being sent to the Wall. They cut my hair, everyone called me Harry. Cersei’s minions tracked down my group. Boys were slaughtered left and right. I ran with a few new friends. I’ve been so many places since that day.” 

“Arya, I’m just so happy that you’re back.” I put one arm around her. “We need each other, now more than ever.” 

“Like father used to say, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.” 

“We need to be a strong pack and trust each other without a doubt. You do realize that we’re up against an army far worse than the Lannisters? Have you heard about the undead creatures from beyond the wall?” 

“Winter is here.” There was a certain finality in the way she said it. She finally put her arm around me, too. We looked around the crypt once more before we both turned and started walking towards the exit without saying another word.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed since Arya and Bran came home. It's also been a week since SxP were alone.

Since Arya and Bran returned the week prior, the days melded into a singular stream of duty. We all had jobs to do while waiting for Jon to return. Bran never said much, he ate little, and spent a good deal of time in the weirwood. I was able to spend some time with Arya. She offered to help me learn a few basic moves with a small dagger, just in case. One afternoon, she even showed me how to throw the dagger with accuracy. It was all much more fun compared to the lady-like tasks I was used to. It seemed more useful against the living than the risen dead, but I didn’t mind the activity. 

I did my best to continue visiting with the newest refugees and making some accommodations for them. Petyr was constantly near, offering advice and guiding the new folks. We all spoke in somber tones of how to fight and defend ourselves against the unknown forces of the dead. Arya sparred with anyone and everyone for practice. She was surprisingly agile and accurate in her attacks. Only a few times I noticed Brienne gain the upper hand when they practiced together. I think someone with brute force could crush her easily, but that was only if they were able to catch her. 

I also began work on two new gowns. One of the lords seeking protection had offered a chest of fine fabric from Essos. A few very lovely bolts of fabric caught my eye and I set them aside for my personal use. It was rare to find such beautiful textiles this far north. One would be my wedding gown, the other I was hoping to save for my coronation. If things went according to plan that would be sooner than later. 

My evenings were spent quietly planning, preparing, and praying. Petyr visited me each evening, but I insisted that we remain chaste and stay separately since Arya found us sleeping together. Also, my monthly flowering was upon me. I had awoken this morning to the annoying puddle of red. I didn’t feel comfortable being intimate with that happening. I suppose I was also hesitant because part of me kept remembering Arya’s words, that he’d have his fill of me and toss me aside. Each time we were together, I searched his face for clues. I found lust and longing in his eyes, never anything hurtful. Perhaps he concealed his inner thoughts well and I was unable to decipher them. 

On the lonely nights, sometimes my imagination ran wild. Like Petyr had advised me before, I tried to consider all possible outcomes and what would be my strongest defense in each scenario. It was exhausting. I kept arriving at a point of uncertainty and it wasn’t regarding Petyr. It was what to do with Jon and the dragon woman. 

On these nights, I found myself pacing the halls or holed up in the library when I couldn’t sleep. The old maester had saved all of the ravens and I took to reading and learning from those tiny scrolls. I had touched possibly a few hundred of the tiny scrolls and found nothing of obvious importance. It was good to refresh my memory of all the houses, names, and insignias in the wax seals. Nothing struck me with any insight or answers, but I felt compelled to keep looking, positive that a clue would appear. 

On this particular night, the moon was at a quarter waxing. It was late and again sleep evaded me. As I walked the corridor to the library in my sleeping shift and wrap, Bran appeared. He was being pushed in his wheeled chair by Brienne. 

“Brother, it’s terribly late for you to be out. What have you been doing?” I approached him and placed my hand on his. It was freezing. It was then that I noticed the frost clinging to his hair. 

“I have seen him. He’s coming home.” Bran spoke in his distant, disaffected manner of speech that was now his normal tone. 

“Lady Sansa, your brother Lord Bran asked me to return him to the woods after supper. We have been there since.” Brienne explained. 

I lowered myself to his eye level. “Bran, who is coming home? Do you mean Jon?” 

“He is not alone. Many souls are coming.” Bran murmured with slightest nod. 

“Brienne, has he said anything else about this?” I questioned. 

“He did say the prince that was promised will return.” She continued with more detail. “He also said the ice will yield to fire.” 

“We already know the white walkers and wights burn. More riddles.” I sighed in exasperation. “I hope this is a good sign and that he means dragons are on the way.” His answers were not answers. Since his return, he may as well have been speaking in tongues. Claiming to be the three-eyed raven made many of us wonder what he went through north of the wall. Had he completely lost his mind or was he really able to see things? His statements were incomplete snippets and somehow always out of time and out of place. He was no longer able to provide context. 

“Sister,” Bran was looking at me, his eyes clear and focused. “The writing you seek is not there.” He pointed to the library. 

“It will be here soon. The new maester knows what you seek.” Bran’s eyes lost their focus as he spoke those words. 

“Brienne, thank you for staying with him. Would you help me get him to bed?” 

“Of course, my lady,” Brienne replied. She turned, pushing Bran to his chamber. I followed them inside. 

Together, we readied Bran’s bedding. I pulled away his lap blanket and cloak as she lifted him. His weight seemed trivial as she maneuvered him into the bed. Bran was awake, seemingly coherent but said nothing the entire time. 

After smoothing the blankets around him, I leaned in to give Bran a hug. He was different but still my brother. As I pulled back, his eyes met mine and he spoke again. 

“He said he loves you and will never betray your trust. He has betrayed our family before, but his weakness is you. Find the scroll he’s hidden away.” 

“Lady Sansa, who does he mean?” Brienne squared her shoulders as if ready to defend me at that moment. 

“He means Lord Baelish. When he asked for my hand, he said those identical words,” I said softly. 

“What of the scroll? Some news he’s hidden away?” Brienne pondered. 

“I haven’t the foggiest idea, but I’m going to find out.” I turned to Bran then and said “Good night, brother. Thank you for your insight.” 

We left my brother’s bedside and retreated to the corridor. Bran had given me two clues, at least I hoped they were clues and not nonsensical babbling. A new maester was on his way with something written. He didn’t call it a scroll, so it could be some other written account, a book perhaps. Petyr held another clue, that one he did say was a scroll. I needed to speak with him right away. I would no longer tolerate secrets between us. This was a chance for me to test something out. Bran said I was his weakness so it was time to use a lesson learned from Cersei. 

“Shall I accompany you, my lady?” Brienne was anxious to help somehow. I knew she was very uneasy with my agreement to wed Lord Baelish. She glanced at my night clothes with a small frown. Thank the gods she didn’t know about our evening after the announcement. Poor Brienne would have lost her mind over that news. 

“Please, check Bran once more tonight. Then you may return to your own quarters for the remainder of the night. I’ll be fine on my own.” 

Her eyes held mine for a moment before she nodded in agreement. She turned and re-entered Bran’s chamber without a look back. 

I quickly made my way through the long hall and down another wing towards Petyr’s chamber. I paused outside his door, leaned close with my ear and listened. No voices inside. He was possibly asleep. At this hour, a normal person would be deep in slumber. I sucked in a deep breath, steeling myself for what may be an awkward conversation if I didn’t act right, and knocked. 

I heard the muffled creak of the bed and the sound of steps. Petyr opened the door wearing a longish sleeping shift that fit him well enough to showcase the tautness of his shoulders and chest. His graying hair was mussed and his face was sleepy but lit with delight at the sight of me. He looked each direction down the corridor before taking my hand and pulling me inside. The door was barely closed when he crushed me to him, his lips seeking mine without hesitation. My lips and body responded eagerly, accepting his hungry kiss. My mind snapped to attention, so I broke away and tried to steady myself before asking about the scroll. 

“What a pleasant surprise in the middle of the night. Have you changed your mind?” he was almost purring as he spoke. 

“That’s not why I came. My moonblood returned. I’m feeling a bit off.” 

The devilish expression returned to his face, a knowing smile that somehow weakened my resolve. 

“I know something that will help.” His arms were around me, holding me to him as he kissed down my throat. One hand slid up my back to tug my hair while the other snaked down my belly. “It’s known to release some of the discomfort ladies experience, if you like I’d be happy to relieve you of that…stress.” His touch was igniting something in my core. It was also erasing the question I need him to answer. 

“Mm, yes.” I was trying to remember what I needed to ask as my body betrayed my mind. “Petyr, I have to ask you something.” 

“Anything, sweetling.” One hand was still up in my hair, while the other was softly massaging across my lower belly. “If you don’t mind me saying this, it’s a shame your moonblood has returned. I was hoping that an heir would have taken root. I do enjoy the thought of you growing round with my child. The curve of your belly, the fullness of your breasts, that’s something I will cherish.” He nuzzled into my neck as he spoke. The heat of his breath on my skin was intoxicating. 

A little moan escaped my lips before I could speak. He chuckled at my response, then swept both hands to my hips and around the curve of my backside, kneading the supple flesh there. 

“Wait, Petyr, I have a question.” I was breathy. “I want us both to be honest with each other, honest in all matters, no secrets. I know you’re very good at keeping secrets, but I hope that you will never keep anything from me.” 

His kneading slowed as he considered my words. His eyes lifted from my lips to my eyes. “Anything, my love, just ask and I will answer.” 

“I just don’t want to be surprised, like when you made marriage arrangements for me and that degenerate Bolton,” I said softly. My resolve had come back, but I was able to sugar-coat my words and actions. I reached one hand up to his face and stroked his jaw as I licked my lips. “I need to know if anything would threaten us or your heir.” With my free hand, I took one of his hands off my rump and placed it directly between my legs, pressing it into the heat growing there. “Don’t forget getting you onto the Iron Throne so that we can rule the seven kingdoms.” 

I blinked with wide, innocent eyes as he studied my wet lips and pressed his palm into my mound. He leaned in ever so slightly as if to kiss me, but I quickly asked, “You don’t have anything that I need to know about, to see or read, any little whispers that we could capitalize upon?” I chewed on my bottom lip for good measure. 

“Well, there is something I have not been forthcoming about,” he admitted. 

I let my face form a perfect look of surprise, shaping my lips into a small “o” while I raised my eyebrows. 

“Queen Cersei sent me with orders to allow the Starks and Boltons to fight for Winterfell, then to take the Knights of the Vale and defeat whomever was left. It was to be a quick and dirty battle designed to make me Warden of the North. As you know, I didn’t follow her plan.” 

My expression carefully morphed into some combination of hurt questioning and sadness. Petyr promptly noticed the change. 

“No, no, my love. There was no way I was following her command. She prepared a scroll naming me Warden. I have it secreted away, but I never wanted the title and lands unless it was with you, for you. When I received your raven asking for help, you knew I would never refuse you.” 

“So all this time, you could have...” my voice faltered, I mustered up some tears for effect. “You could have taken everything from me?” 

“I did this for you,” he shook his head, distressed at my reaction. “I did it to protect you. Do you believe me?” He clasped my hands to his chest and searched my face for something. 

I lowered my head and took a deep breath. I transformed my expression into something of gratitude and slowly raised my gaze to meet his. “You saved me from Cersei once again. What did I do to deserve you?” I rewarded him with a soft kiss to show that I was satisfied with his answer. 

“Everything I’ve done is for you.” Petyr resumed kneading my behind. “It’s for us.” His voice grew husky. “You know this. Here come sit with me on the bed. You must feel terrible and I can help that.” 

I let him guide me to the side of the bed, knowing that I would give in, knowing that it was the price I had to pay and the game I had to play. We were standing, facing each other. I placed a palm on his chest and smoothed the fabric over his body. It was a very attractive body. 

“Sweetling, I’ve answered your question. Would it be fair for you to answer a question of mine?” 

I nodded, hoping it was an easy question. 

“You were with that degenerate Bolton for many months. He took you, yet no child took hold. How did that happen?” 

“Thankfully, the maester gave me a medicinal tea daily that helped prevent his heir from taking hold. It was a small mercy.” 

Petyr looked thoughtful and recognition crossed his expression. “I believe I know the tea he used. It has come in handy a number of times in the brothels. Effective.” 

Satisfied with my answer, the seriousness in his eyes gave way to something else. Sadness? He touched my face, gently caressing my cheek, then moved to toy with my long, unbraided hair. 

His lips found mine again and teased my tongue with his. I molded myself into him, pressing my breasts into his firm chest. Arms wove around each other as the spark ignited my core. He pulled my hips into his tighter, reaching under me and lifting me onto the bed. 

Laying me back onto the bed, he stood between my legs, although still kissing. I felt his palms at my knees slowly sliding upwards. His touch fanned the flames already burning inside. Then his hands were gone as quickly as they had met my skin. I felt the tug on my wrap to remove the barrier between us. He released my lips to tend to removing the wrap. 

“Still Arya was right. You are terrible,” I said in a joking way. 

“Oh, but she is right. I am terrible.” I heard the lilt of something sexy in his voice as he dropped the wrap. He reached below my shift and deftly whisked away my blood-stained smallclothes. “Terrible indeed.” 

“Only in the bedroom,” I teased. I kept my eyes locked on his as I smirked and reached for him, snaking a hand under his night clothes. I raked my fingers through the rough patch of hair between his legs and found his manhood quickly responding to my touch. “You only molded me into your perfect companion. You’ve taught me so much about politics and posturing, but practically nothing about what to do with this.” I gave his member a little squeeze for emphasis. 

He inhaled sharply as I held him, stroking up and down softly and slowly. He replied, “You seem to have an innate sense of what to do. Perhaps you’ll let me try again, and again, until it’s not so terrible and your domestic education is more complete.” He propped himself up on his elbows over me as I tried to sit up. His gaze fell to my chest where my thin shift barely concealed the pink peaks of my nipples. 

“I suppose I can allow you to try. It wouldn’t be very proper for me to deny anything to my husband.” I teased. I pushed myself further back on the bed and sat up a little straighter, tugging the thin fabric taut over my body so I could watch his reaction. 

For a few seconds, he was motionless as he studied me. I saw his Adams apple bob as he swallowed. Then he licked his lips, which quickly turned into a devilish smile. My heart pounded in my chest at just the sight. 

Petyr stood back and whipped off his nightclothes. His erection was proud, pronounced against the firelight. He pounced onto the bed above me on all fours, pushing me back into the bed. My legs were spread wide as he settled in, kneeling. His hands landed on my thighs. His thumbs began massaging a curious location where my legs joined my derrière. His fingers worked upwards closer to my wetness, without actually touching my center. It was relaxing and sensual and completely unexpected. 

I swept my hair up and back, somewhat fluffing it out of the way across the pillows. Then, I sank deeper into the bed as Petyr stroked my sensitive flesh. A content sigh left my mouth as his curious massage worked to relax my tense lady parts. Wanting filled me as the tension dissipated. A carnal need for another type of relief filled my head. 

I needed him. I needed fucked and it had to be now. 

Pulling my shift up and wiggling it off, I brought both hands to my abdomen. Slowly scooting them upwards, I cupped my breasts. Petyr watched me closely as I softly squeezed myself and began rolling my nipples between my fingers. My touch was nice, but it couldn’t compare to his. Soon, I reached for his hands and placed them on my breasts to take over. His touch on my sensitive nipples sent shivers to my core. 

I had to touch myself down there, now that I moved his hands. I was filled with longing. Fingers slid through my folds at the surprising amount of wetness. I realized the combination of desire and moonblood made me exceptionally wet and ready. I reached lower to Petyr’s manhood, trying to make sure he was ready. 

Oh, he was. It was like a hot stone covered in velvet. He took the hint and lifted my hips up to perfectly nestle his cock’s tip at my entrance. As if I weren’t ready enough, he teased my opening, sliding the length of his cock through my folds. Deliciously slow, tantalizing strokes swept over my pleasure nub as he moved. His movements teased me and my panting soon turned to moans. I desperately tried to angle my hips so he’d accidentally slip inside, but he held my hips still. 

He chided with a smirk, “Tsk, tsk, my lady. All in due time.” 

“No, my lord. NOW.” I was suddenly very bold. Where did that come from? 

His expression flashed surprise for the tiniest moment, then to desire. He knew. He knew that I was beyond stopping. He rapidly obliged, pounding his cock into my depths. A true animal moan erupted from me as he drove me into the bed. I spread my legs as wide as possible, tilting my pelvis to help him reach the deepest, most sensitive point inside me. I even worked a hand down to my lower belly so I could feel my stomach bulging from his cock inside me. From there, my hand moved lower still to rub my clit as he fucked me. 

“Is this what you need, my love? My cock buried in you?” He asked, his voice raspy with exertion. 

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” 

“Yes!” Gods, I was close. I was gasping for air, clenching around him. I noticed that he slowed his thrusts. He was pulling out ever so slowly, then returned with a rapid thrust into my core. It made my walls burn with need. 

“Say it. I am yours and you are mine.” He was pulling out so slowly, again, until he was completely outside. His cock wasn’t even touching my entrance. 

“Sansa, say it and I’ll let you come.” His dark gray eyes bore into mine. I was filled with some emotion I didn’t remember. My heart pounded and I felt something in my chest. Elation? My nerves were on fire waiting for him to enter my cunt again. 

I blinked in confusion. He stopped moving. He needed to keep going or I was going to explode. 

“I am yours and you are mine,” he repeated. His eyes held mine. 

“Yes,” I panted. “Yes, I am yours and you are mine.” He drove into me again and again, but slower. I tilted my head back and moaned. His mouth was on my throat, nipping, kissing, and sucking. Then, his lips met mine in an exquisite kiss. 

He slowed again and shifted position to lay on top of me, keeping himself buried deeply in my cunt. I wiggled in little circles beneath him, stimulating my nub against his pelvic bone. His hands moved up, one to the side stroking my hair, one beneath my neck. His hips were barely thrusting into me, but it was driving me mad, nevertheless. 

“Sansa, what am I doing right now?” His gaze held something of gravity as he looked at me. We were nose to nose, breathing in each other. 

“You’re fucking me, Petyr.” I said simply. “Don’t stop.” 

I reached my hands down to his backside, squeezing his cheeks, then raking my nails up his back, trying to urge him on. 

“No, sweetling. We’re making love. I am yours and you are mine. Yes, we will fuck like animals, but right now,” he inhaled my breath and I understood. I finally understood what I felt, what he did for me. 

I cupped his face as I said, “Right now we’re making love, because I love you and you love me,” I finished his sentence. It was a powerful sensation. I was overwhelmed by the look he gave me, adoring and genuine. 

“Yes,” he hissed, moving his hips against mine, then kissing me deeply with our tongues dancing. He picked up the pace again. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he brought me closer and closer to climax. I could feel a change in his motion. He was close too. 

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. I’m almost, almost...” my voice gave out as my body convulsed and convulsed. Pleasure coursed through me, radiating up from the depths of my womb. My legs were clamped tight around him, refusing to budge as I came. It was blinding. Then I felt him join me, a grunting, guttural sound escaped him as his cock pulsed inside me. The throb of him at that moment spurred my climax even higher. I shivered and moaned as I caught my breath. 

We stayed on the bed like that for a long time. Petyr was still on top, kissing me lazily, weaving his fingers into my hair. The fire was dying out. Petyr finally slipped himself out of me and I noted a little disappointment at the sensation of emptiness. He poked at the embers in the fireplace and placed a new log on top. Watching his naked form in the darkness was comforting. 

I was his and he was mine. What a simple notion. I thought of it and a smile spread on my face. I was his and he was mine and we didn’t even make it to the godswood yet to make it official. 

Realization hit me again. I was his and he was mine and we loved each other. Just a week ago, I was positive I didn’t love him. A week ago, I made a plan, to play the game that’d make me a queen, and use him to help me accomplish it. Now, the game had changed. 

The game had most definitely changed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adding some plot that mixes in actual TV show dialogue, but twisted to suit my story.
> 
> Enjoy!

At some point in the wee hours of the morning, I gently slipped out of Petyr’s bed. He still slumbered peacefully as I dressed and crept out of his chamber. In a few short minutes, I was back to my own chamber before anyone noticed. I was still shaken by our coupling, yes it was that good. I was even more shaken at my feelings toward him. 

A week ago, my mind was made up. Bound and determined to use my own cunning mind plus every trick I’d learned from Cersei and Petyr himself, I was planning on how to take back control of the North once and for all, a true queen. 

Of course, Petyr had his own plans. He was ambitious, and artful in his movements. Each scheme had a carefully plotted out conclusion. He wanted the seven kingdoms. I was content with just one, my home. Was. Was being the key word floating in my mind. After last night, something in me had shifted. I suddenly felt that if I could help him, why shouldn’t I? After all he’d done for me, I had to support the man I loved. 

Would winning him the seven kingdoms to make him happy? Without a doubt. Could we out-maneuver the Lannisters? Probably. Could we achieve this without annihilating the commoners? We'd have to. Now, how would I convince the other Houses to support me, support us? 

I flopped into the armchair closest to the cold, dark fireplace. I remained there, letting ideas float around my head, until I was a bit chilled. I crouched in front of the heap of ashes, using a prong to poke through the ashes, looking for an ember that could restart a blaze. All I needed was one to get the fire roaring back to life. 

That’s when it occurred to me. It started with one. One mind at a time. One heart at a time. 

That’s what it would take, changing one person over at a time to our side. We’d have to find a common enemy and unite against it or them, as the case may be. 

We’d need everyone to fight the undead. Then, granting our survival, whomever plotted and organized the ordeal, would be recognized in the end as ruler. My siblings, Jon, the dragon queen, her forces, our forces, then we could attack King’s Landing. The idea was taking on new details as I let it roil through my brain. I knew that that I desperately needed Arya for to make it all come together. 

Maybe today was as good a day as any to try connecting with Bran, too. He was right about Petyr keeping Cersei’s declaration from me, but I knew without a doubt that was the least of my worries. 

With these ideas in mind, the family saying came to mind. Arya had reminded me just yesterday. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. 

The pack survives. Petyr was part of the pack now, so anything we took on would be together. Somehow, I’d need to get my siblings to accept him as part of the pack, too. 

I freshened up with a splash of water on my face and between my legs, dressed quickly and hurried back to Petyr’s chamber to tell him my idea. His door was locked so he must have noticed that I left. I knocked timidly. It was still before dawn. 

He answered with a suspicious expression that soon gave way to smirk. “Back for more?” 

I pushed him inside and planted a slow kiss on his lips. “Yes, but only after I tell you my idea.” 

 

 

********* 

By midmorning, I’d relayed my idea to Petyr and together it had grown into something even better. He was willing to take any steps necessary, including winning over Arya. That would be no small task. She was stubborn through and through. 

We caught Bran in the courtyard watching others practice with swords against Arya. He looked so out of place sitting there. At least his eyes weren’t vacant. They were the opposite then, taking in every move happing before him, keenly aware of the smallest flicker of action. 

I approached him warmly, “Bran, my sweet brother. I was hoping that we could talk to you.” 

“Of course,” he replied, seemingly quite lucid. 

“I hope you don’t mind if we walk to somewhere more private,” I said as I tapped the grips on his wheeled chair. 

Bran looked at Petyr and then at me before answering. “You do realize that you will be the only ones walking.” 

He joked! My jaw dropped agape for a moment before I smiled to myself and took hold of the chair’s handles. “That is true.” 

We made small talk as we took Bran inside where it was warmer and much less noisy. Petyr had been the one to devise giving Bran a gift as a sort of peace offering since were getting married in few days. He wanted a bit of privacy, so I retreated from the room, but was able to peek around the doorway and listen. Petyr pulled a chair up to face Bran. 

“Bran, this is for you.” Petyr said, unsheathing an unusual dagger with a curved blade. He deftly flipped it over in one hand, to hand it to Bran handle first. 

Bran was unimpressed with this gift. Recognition flickered across his face. 

Petyr continued, “The last man that wielded it meant to cut your throat, but your mother fought him off.” 

Bran took the dagger and examined it with a sour expression. 

“The other dagger, the one that took her life, I would’ve stopped that dagger with my own heart if I could have. I wasn’t there for her, but I am here now. To do what she would have done, to protect her children. Anything I can do for you, you need only ask,” 

“Do you know who this belonged to?” Bran asked. 

“No, that very question was what started the war of the five kings.” Petyr took a deep breath as if to go on. His face had a bit of displeasure on it, just a hint of squint in his eyes as he thought what to say next. Things weren’t going as well as I had hoped, and Bran’s friend Meera appeared by my side at that moment. We stepped into the room together. 

“Meera, how nice to run into you. I really can’t stay to visit, though. Lord Baelish I need your counsel.” I held out a hand to Petyr, palm up, a subtle hint to rise from his seat and join me. He understood my gesture, nodding to Bran, then Meera, and taking my hand in his. 

I lead Petyr to the library. His face was stone as we walked through the corridors. As we rounded the corner to the library, his gaze matched mine. Uncertainty. Winning over my siblings may be harder than I thought. 

“Thank you for trying,” I offered. “He’s just not the same. I had such high hopes when he joked that we’d be the ones walking.” 

“It will take time, my love.” Petyr pursed his lips in thought. His eyes were cast down in thought. 

I drew closer to him, releasing his hand in order to face him fully and reach around his neck. Pulling him into a kiss, his body lost some of the tension as our lips met. He reached for my waist to hold me even tighter. 

Neither of us heard the approach of footsteps. A dry cough interrupted our kiss. Maester Wolkan bobbed his head and greeted us curtly. 

“My lady, a raven has just arrived.” Maester Wolkan held out the tiny scroll to me. 

I mumbled a thank you as I broke the seal and began reading. It was from Jon and it was as bad as I had expected. He’d bent the knee to her. He was risking our backsides in order to gain her protection. I feared it was as Petyr predicted. The dragon woman had Jon in her clutches and only a fool would believe it wasn’t due to a romantic relationship. 

 

******************* 

After calling for Arya and Bran, we met quietly in the godswood. I left Petyr in the courtyard so that my brother and sister could talk freely. 

Bran looked lucid still. Arya’s face was tight, her lips bloodless lines turned down at the corners as I relayed Jon’s raven to them. 

“He’s a fool!” I cursed him and his trusting soul. “We cannot allow Danerys Targaryen to rule. I have no problem letting her take out Cersei Lannister, but the North is ours. I will not allow her to sweep in here after all I’ve been through to regain our home and just let her take what is ours.” 

Arya joined in. “If she makes it easier to defeat the Lannisters, then she is my friend for now, but if she forces us to bend the knee as well...” her gaze fell away to Bran. 

All the while Bran had been fidgeting under his cloak with something. He pulled out the curved dagger that Petyr had gifted to him just a short while ago. 

Arya’s focus dropped to the dagger. “Where’d you get that?” she asked. 

“It was a gift from Littlefinger,” Bran replied coolly. 

“What? Why would he give you a gift? He’s not a generous man,” she pondered. “He wouldn’t give you anything unless he thought he was getting something back.” Arya’s gaze fell to me with a glare. 

“He’s declared for House Stark,” I quipped. 

Bran studied the handle closely as he said, “Because it was meant to kill me.” 

I piped up, “It was the cutthroats, the man that meant to kill Bran after his fall from the tower.” 

“What cutthroat would have a Valyrian steel dagger?” Arya asked incredulously. “And how did Littlefinger end up with it?” 

“Someone very wealthy wanted me dead,” Bran replied in a flat, lifeless tone. “It doesn’t matter now.” 

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Arya squeaked. 

“I don’t want it. Here. It’s yours now.” Bran held the dagger to Arya. 

Her expression softened for the first time. “Are you sure? It’s Valyrian steel.” She questioned his decision. 

“It’s wasted on a cripple. Beside I have no use for such trivial things when I can watch the world as the three eyed raven,” Bran stated with finality. He extended the dagger to her once again. His reference to the raven was lost on Arya. But she took the dagger this time with reverence, an appreciation for the artifact shone in her eyes. She gently stroked the sharpened blade with a single finger to test how sharp it really was. 

Our discussion returned to Jon and how to avoid becoming subservient to another ruthless Targaryen. We spoke in hushed tones as I relayed my plan to my siblings. It was just a basic shell of a plan, to allow Danerys and her forces to help us defeat the white walkers then how we could turn her to King’s Landing. I vaguely mentioned pitting her against Cersei and then kept the last part to myself. I didn’t need to explain how we’d take control. Arya was smart enough to fill in those voids. I could see the idea take root in both of them. 

“Think on what moves we could make, nothing overt,” I directed. “We will discuss this later as we find out more about this woman once they arrive. It should be a fortnight or so, depending on how Jon’s outing with her fares. I expect them to arrive fully entrenched in each other’s warm embrace.” 

Arya made a face at the insinuation of their relationship being romantic. Bran’s eyes lost focus then. He became very still and his eyes turned white. He had left our conversation and warged to another place. 

It was Arya’s first time witnessing this. I had caught him in this state shortly after his arrival. Thankfully, Meera explained it to me. I tried to explain to Arya as Meera had. 

“He’s able to leave this body and see with the eyes of another.” I offered her. I expected a curious reaction. Instead, she was calm. 

“I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe. I think this is not the worst talent to have,” she stated. 

It wasn’t long before Bran’s eyes returned to normal. 

“I saw him, he’s travelling with her. Looked like a ship’s cabin. They were...” he gulped before continuing with a grimace, “Intimate with each other.” 

“Well, that is unwise.” I folded my arms across my chest at the confirmation. “Alright, we’ve lost Jon. I’ll play the part of approachable regent until that ploy no longer works. When they arrive, keep your ears sharp and your eyes keen for any information that can help us overcome the obstacle that is Danerys Targaryen.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but important to the end result. I hope you like where I'm going with this.

By evening time, Arya was well into working on how to gather intelligence. I caught glimpses of her throughout Winterfell. She was quiet as a mouse and lightning fast. I suspect that she was very adept at not being seen unless she wanted to be seen. 

Petyr was even kept quite busy for the better part of the day. I’d left him with instructions to relay to Lord Royce and Maester Wolkan regarding gathering stores of grain from other posts in the North. I’d made some progress on the wedding night feast arrangements. It was after nightfall when I saw Petyr again. 

We were finally alone in my chambers when he told me that he saw Arya unlock his door and enter his room. After she left, he checked his belongings and discovered the scroll from Cersei had gone missing. 

We were both certain Arya would be furious, furious at me for wanting to marry him and furious at him for manipulating me. Stubborn and hot-tempered, she’d probably turn on us now. 

We ventured together to Arya’s chambers. I knocked but there was no answer. The door was locked so I let us in with my key. 

She wasn’t there. I started to look through her wardrobe for the scroll. Petyr stood awkwardly by the door. Tucked beneath her bed was a satchel. Expecting to find scrolls, I opened it and pulled out an odd leathery scrap. It looked to be a face. There were others inside, tucked together neatly. 

“Not what you’re looking for?” Arya demanded. Neither of us had heard her approach or even push open the door. 

“I was looking for you. It seems that something of Petyr’s has gone missing. But what are these?” I dropped the satchel to the floor in disgust. 

“They’re my faces,” she replied quietly. 

“Where did you get them?” I asked haltingly. 

“In Braavos, where I was training to be a faceless man.” She said it simply, casually, like everyone knew what a faceless man was. 

“What does that mean?” I was curious to uncover the truth. 

“Back in Braavos, before I got my first face, there was a game I used to play, the game of faces. It's simple. I’ll ask you a question about yourself and you try to make a lie sound like the truth. If you fool me, you win. If I catch a lie, you lose. Let’s play.” Arya stood straight and proud despite her small stature. 

“I don’t want to play,” I replied warily with a small shake of my head. She knew I was a terrible liar from our childhood. This would not work out in my favor. 

“How do you feel about Jon being King? Is there someone else you think should rule the north instead of him?” 

I avoided her question. “Those faces. What are they?” 

She took a step towards me before speaking. “We both wanted to be other people when we were young. You wanted to be a queen, to sit next to a handsome king on the iron throne.” She glanced to Petyr. He stood very still with one arm on the mantle of the fireplace, trying to look unperturbed. 

She looked back to me and continued “I wanted to be a knight, to pick up a sword like father and go off to battle. Neither of us got to be that other person did we? The world doesn’t just let girls decide what they’re going to be. But I can now.” 

Arya paused to withdraw Bran’s curved dagger from the sheath on her belt. “With the faces I can choose, I can become someone else, speak in their voice, live in their skin.” She took another step closer to me, with the drawn dagger at her side. “I could even become you. I wonder what it would feel like to wear those pretty dresses, to be the lady of Winterfell. All I’d need to find out is your face.” She spun the dagger between her fingers, then pressed the handle into my palm. 

A jolt of fear rose in me. She was so different, so cold. This was not the reaction I expected. I’d underestimated her. 

“I still don’t understand what you see in this smarmy cretin. I could take his face and disappear. No one would notice.” Arya sneered as she took a menacing step towards Petyr. “You only want Sansa as a replacement for our mother.” 

“That’s not true. Once a long time ago, I was infatuated with your mother.” Petyr looked pained to explain himself to her. “Sansa's not a replacement or substitute. She is so much more than your mother ever was. She’s a totally different creature, sent from the heavens.” 

Now it was Arya’s turn to look pained, actually it was more like contempt that had faded into a softer mistrust. 

Taking the opportunity to steer the conversation I joined in. “You can become anyone?” I asked quietly. 

She turned on her heel and quirked an eyebrow at my question, answering with a flat “Yes.” 

“How does that work?” 

“At the House of Black and White, we cleaned the bodies of those who wished to leave the world of the living. Their faces were preserved in vaulted catacombs called the Hall of Faces. The Many-Faced God allowed me to learn their ways.” 

“The Many-Faced God? What have you gotten in to, Arya?” 

“Yes, the god of death, he taught us to be no one, to be able to slip in and out of places, disguised with another’s face, to become that person long enough to take care of the things that needed done.” 

I was dumbfounded at her explanation. I looked to Petyr for something and he could only shrug back and look equally lost. 

“Sansa, didn’t you tell me that Meryn Trant used to beat you?” 

“That’s right,” I gulped. “In front of everyone. Joffrey had him strip me and beat me.” 

“He also killed my water dance instructor, Syrio Forel. But. He’ll never hurt anyone again,” she said with a scary, wide-eyed expression. “I know because I killed him in Braavos.” Her gaze was completely focused on me as she relayed the story. 

“He went to a brothel there, he only wanted the youngest girls to beat and torture before having his way with them. I took one of the faces from the vault, my first face actually, that of a young girl dying of a horrible disease. She came to the House of Black and White looking for a way to end her suffering. I helped her, eased her pain and sorrows. I disguised myself as her to sneak into the brothel. He was there again. I lined up with two other girls. He hurt them, made them cry and scream. He tried to beat me, but I kept quiet. So quiet. He dismissed the other two and punched me. When he did, I took his eyes, stabbed him in the gut, and finally slit his throat after telling him he could thank a Stark for his end.” 

I felt bile rise up in my throat. It stunned me to know Arya carried this out. Arya was a skilled killer. My little sister had lost her innocence in a wholly different way that I had, and she was relishing the results. 

I caught Petyr’s eye. He was noticeably uncomfortable at Arya’s account, but I could tell he was thinking. 

Petyr’s voice was thick and low when he spoke. “Arya, can you become anyone?” 

She turned to him. “I just need their face.” 

“You kill them and then take their face?” he asked. 

“Yes, simple really.” She was almost beaming at us for grasping her explanation. 

“Anyone? Even Cersei?” I asked. “Provided that you could sneak into the Red Keep and if you could get to her.” 

Arya’s face brightened even more at the suggestion of killing Cersei. 

“Oh, yes, that’s something I’ve been hoping to do all along.” 

I felt a moment of relief. We’d stumbled upon common ground. I laid the dagger on the table. I smiled at her and walked over to Petyr, snaking one arm around him. 

“Arya, I think your training is fantastic and you’ve just given me a brilliant idea. After this war with the undead is over, you’re going to Kings Landing. I want you there, in disguise until the time is right to attack Cersei. You get the honor of killing her.” 

Petyr added in “There must also be no Lannister left to take the throne when she falls.” 

“Hold up a moment. I like where you’re going with this, but what about the scroll I found in his room? The one that named him Warden of the North?” She looked back and forth at us with an accusation in her eyes. 

Petyr shrugged it off. “It’s nothing. Cersei wanted me to accomplish certain deeds. She gave me that as a promise. I think you know by now that I don’t follow every order from her to the letter.” 

“It’s true, Arya. Petyr would do anything for me. He doesn’t need Cersei’s meddling.” 

“Besides, Queen Cersei already named me Lord of Harrenhal and Lord Protector of the Vale. I think I have enough titles for the moment.” Petyr looked at me sidelong as he named his lordships, winking. 

She bought it. Either Petyr was a liar above her ability to discern or it was the truth. I could tell she wasn’t going to press him further especially since she noticed the wink he gave me. 

“You sneaky bastards,” she had a lopsided grin as she swore at us. “Sansa, I can’t believe how much you’ve changed.” 

We laughed as the tension between the three of us dissolved. 

“So when the time is right, who will be there to take the throne?” Arya asked. An expression of dawning understanding slyly spread on her face, she was beginning to see our plan, my plan to rule the kingdoms. 

“Well, it will be you, for a while, until you’re ready to give it up,” I declared. “You’ll make a far better Queen Cersei than she ever was. Plus, better a Stark than any other.” 

She practically jumped for joy at this. This was a victory for Petyr and I, by winning Arya over we had gained a crucial ally. I sighed in relief and let myself lean into Petyr’s side as we stood across from her. I think she could see the basic outline of my plan. We were finally eye to eye on something, she was on our side. Of course, there were other details to work out later concerning Jon and Danerys, but I’d share that with her on a need to know basis.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more plot and preparation before we get to the big day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay in posting. Life happens! This chapter is pretty short as well, but we need something to help advance the plot. I hate using big time-jumps to gloss over things.
> 
> Also, kudos and comments are appreciated! Thanks for reading!

Dawn broke, but I was already awake in my bed. The room was cold and dim, but I had burrowed into the layers of furs and blankets. Nagging thoughts had kept me from a restful night’s sleep.

Alone, since I had sent Petyr off by himself last night, I was able to plot out a few things. The days were quickly dwindling as we approached the wedding. It was only two day away and mostly squared away. I still felt the nagging sensation that something was amiss. I knew that Jon would return soon and he would need a very special welcome home. I needed him to be receptive to my decision to marry. I also needed to consider what to tell our bannermen when they realized that the King in the North has sided with another Targaryen. Honestly, it’s better for them to keep me as Queen. Targaryens are notoriously insane. Jon was already in a precarious position as a bastard. This was just another reason for the low folk and bannermen to mistrust him.

A few ideas danced in my head. Openly side with her? Covertly side with her? How to put a spin on things so it looks like we have her interests in mind? A growl from my stomach interrupted my plotting.

Reaching my wardrobe, the glowing silk of my wedding gown peeked out in front of my usual gowns. Stroking the soft fabric, I was struck by a moment of clarity.

_I am sane. I am strong. I am born of this land. I am the safe choice._

_Crisis is an opportunity. This could be a continuation of the same crisis that’s been stalking me for years._

_Even more reason to keep on winning over one person at a time. The tide will turn in my favor if done right. Petyr isn’t the only one who can play a long game._

Tossing a gray gown on the bed, I made up my mind to make it look like I was taking everything on like a bull by the horns, even though nobody else knew my true intentions.

************

After breaking my fast with my family, I was greeted with news that a man Jon knew had arrived. Petyr joined me in welcoming this friend, a man named Samwell Tarley and his family had traveled from the Citadel. I informed him that Jon was away but granted him to stay as long as would like. He was a maester-in-training and it seemed that he would be a valuable asset in our fight against the white walkers.

I invited them to join me later in the day for tea. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them. Samwell was the man that had sent Jon a raven urging him to find dragonglass. They had met at the Wall and Sam, as he asked me to call him, was the first to kill a white walker with a shard of dragon glass. He’d rescued his lady companion, Gilley, that night. It was a lovely story, besides all the nasty truth behind the white walker attack and whatnot.

From our brief time together, I could see that Sam was a good friend to Jon. He was clever and obviously well on his way to being a thoughtful and respectable maester. He was shy at first, but after warming up to me, I could sense his enthusiasm as he told stories about Jon at the Wall and also from the Citadel.

Gilley, Sam’s partner, was a charming girl, if a bit rough around the edges. It turned out she was a wildling from beyond the wall. As we were chatting, I received a messenger from the gate. A rider had delivered news that a large group of travelers had been spotted headed toward Winterfell. According to the rider, the size of the group was small and nobody among them looked like Jon.

It was late when the group actually arrived. I had prepared the great hall to receive these guests, assuming that they were calling upon Winterfell for support. Petyr and Bran were with me at the head table. Much to my surprise, I immediately recognized some of the travelers as did Petyr. Sandor Clegane and Gendry Waters were in the midst of a few wildlings and a religious man who identified himself as Beric Dondarrion from the Brotherhood without Banners. They explained their need to travel beyond the wall to find a wight. They had followed Jon into the North. One man, Thoros, their priest had died facing the white walkers. From their harrowing tale, I discovered that Jon was close behind, but coming with Danerys and all of her Dothraki and freed slave followers.

Apparently, Danerys had already made a trip to King’s Landing to attempt a gentle partnership with the Lannisters until the undead could be defeated. Cersei reluctantly agreed to stop warring until the undead were handled. Also, somehow Danerys had lost one of her dragons while fighting the white walkers and narrowly escaped with her own life.

That last detail greatly intrigued me. Narrowly escaped? Almost lost her own life? So she was mortal and definitely scared of losing. I glanced to Petyr to gauge his reaction at this news, but he kept his expression curiously neutral. It was only a matter of time before he shared some little insight with me in private. Still, I attempted to reach my own conclusions, hoping to match Petyr’s wit.


End file.
